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Sad Story Idea
This is the story, of the girl named Wendy. Her golden locks of hair cascaded across her cold shoulders. Her sunset eyes now coated by death's final daze and her lips were curled into a frown as the tear stains he had pre-mortem still sparkling across her cheeks. Her cold body lain down upon the cold bloodstained tile floor of her bathroom. Her body lain in a previously pure white, stained with the pure red of her blood, as if it were staining her innocence, stretched across the floor. Wrists slit nearly all the way through, she obviously hadn't indulged in this. She had committed suicide. What people hadn't known is that committing to suicide is called "committing" for a reason; if anyone bothered to try they couldn't get her back now. The final moment that went through her mind is that how no one would have wanted her back. No matter what she did it was always wrong. She was better off existing in the cold then living in a world that resented her. Memories continued to flare through her mind as she went through with her suicide. A single day before that she had decided to end her living a lie. Always feeling inferior, she decided to prove to all of them that they had all been wrong about her. That day she came out about being a Lesbian, and everyone looked at her very oddly then laughing. Turning away in shame, her form tutor didn't acknowledge any of what had happened and so she had hid behind her hands to the words of her peers, running to the girls toilet's, feeling nothing but shame and the bruises streamed across her body as the tears did the same upon her face. As she got ready to walk home many girls ambushed her as she left school premises and had beaten her, leaving her to die in a ditch. The tear stains from before now stained in blood, the bruises from their words now evident, she knew there was nothing left for her. Later that day she had returned home to tell her mother what happened, but that gluttonous pig she was forced to refer to as a mother did nothing but laugh. The sound of this grotesque woman's laughter had rattled the eardrums of this young girl and she dropped her bags and ran to the kitchen. She yanked a knife free from the drawer and ran to the bathroom. Her white school dress was what she had been wearing, and it had been coated lightly by dirt from earlier in the day, and so before hand she washed it in the sink to keep clean for when she was found, cleaning all of her cuts and sitting upon the floor. She always thought, if anyone wanted to see her at her funeral she would at least want them to think well of her. The silver blade of the knife then pierced her left wrist and blood began to ooze out. It coated the blade and soon enough it had nearly reach directly through the entire wrist. She pushed it onto the ground with her one remaining hand and sliced through that wrist as well, the blood from both wounds mingling on the blade. Feeling lightheaded she lain back and the blood coated her pure white dress, her blood staining it as if her innocence had been stained as well. The tiles felt cold against her body, but she soon lost this feeling and opened her eyes. She let out a final sigh and with it the last remaining blood she would need to die had been let out of her wrists. From her eyes fell final teardrops, with her life as death had then glazed her sunrise eyes to look like the sunset. Her mouth had fallen into a frown and she had lain there to be found. This was the story, of the girl named Wendy.